The Dam, review
The Dam
UK release: 12 May 2023
Director: Ali Cherri
Starring: Maher El Khair, Santino Aguer Ding, Mudathir Musa
Review by Sarah Edwards
On its surface, The Dam (2022) is about a Sudanese bricklayer, Maher, and the strange structure he escapes his home to build in the evenings. At its core, it raises questions about repression and resistance between humans and in their relationship to the natural world.
The Dam is the third in the Telluric Trilogy by visual artist and director Ali Cherri, following two short films, the Disquiet (2013) and The Digger (2015). The first feature-length film in the series, it represents a departure from the documentary style of the shorts, and instead takes a more fantastical approach to exploring its subject matter.
Maher spends his days with his colleagues shaping and firing bricks out of mud near the Merowe Dam, on the banks of the Nile in Sudan. At night, he travels off into the desert to build a mysterious structure. As Maher’s work progresses, the structure takes on a life of its own, and begins to speak to him.
Throughout the film, radios and televisions broadcast the Sudanese revolution and the ouster of former president, Omar al-Bashir. While getting ready for the day, or relaxing after work, Maher listens to stories on the rising prices of bread, protesters in the streets and those found washed up in the Nile.
This revolution, however, feels far removed from Maher’s everyday life, which hardly changes even as his country undergoes such a seismic shift. Maher’s oppression is better represented by his boss, circling the site where Maher works, in a tiny car with flashing rainbow lights.
The structure he builds has no practical purpose, nor is it clear what it’s meant to be. When it first begins to speak to Maher, it questions his commitment to an impossible dream when it will lead him nowhere. Though it does nothing to change the forces that hold him down, building is an act of resistance for Maher. But is it enough to set him free?
The Dam is less concerned with plot than it is with creating an overall vibe. It floats from one scene to the next through long, still shots on details like the crackle of the fire beneath the bricks or the rushing of the water from the dam. Dialogue is kept to a minimum. In its place a soundscape blossoms that amplifies the hum of the natural world and grinding toil of everyday work. When music fades in, it brings a mystical energy and adds depth to Maher’s inner world. All of this comes together to give the film a zen, dreamlike atmosphere.
The visuals are no less carefully planned than its sound. Each shot feels meticulously constructed to highlight symmetry and geometry. Any given frame is neatly divided into halves or thirds in a way that creates a surreal sense of place flattened and disconnected from the world around it. Even when gathered at a funeral, the bricklayers look posed in their grief. The point is not authenticity but artistic expression.
The tranquility lent to the film by its well-crafted visuals and meditative audio makes it difficult to sustain momentum over The Dam’s nearly 80-minute run time. At times, the pacing suffers, and as the film reaches its conclusion, its scattered elements and gestures at symbolism do not come together in a way that is fully satisfying. While Maher’s search for liberation is tied up neatly, the various sub-plots are concluded in a way that calls into question their inclusion in the story to begin with. What we hope to learn from Maher’s repeated interactions with a dog, or what is said by the wound on his back that is not already implied elsewhere, is unclear.
The Dam is visually stunning about one man’s journey to spiritual liberation, but the elements that make it such an ethereal experience also drag down its pacing. Beautiful, thoughtful, but light on story, The Dam struggles to keep itself grounded but is sure to enchant those looking to float away with it.